THANK heavens for Wayne Rooney. The young Everton sensation gave departing fans something to warm themselves by after the luckiest points of the season were pickpocketed at Goodison Park.

THANK heavens for Wayne Rooney. The young Everton sensation gave departing fans something to warm themselves by after the luckiest points of the season were pickpocketed at Goodison Park.

Just as importantly, he enabled a furrowed David Moyes to talk about something other than a largely embarrasing outing which will have done little for confidence.

Without Rooney you shudder to think what would have befallen a Blues' line-up that never learned to cope with a Blackburn side which played the bulk of the good football - inspired by Damien Duff and David Thompson - yet ended up with only a bottle of gripe water for their indigestion.

Clearly, three defeats on the bounce had ripped the stuffing out of Everton. Throughout, they looked as troubled as turkeys contemplating Christmas.

Not Rooney, though. And that proved vital. That made the difference.

For while all around him floundered, the young god bestrode his new kingdom like a boy born to be king.

He was awesome. His goals we know about - and there was another one here, plus the most significant of assists for Lee Carsley. But it was his power and his passing and his passion that made you sit up and forget the numbing cold.

This teenager titan is turbo-charged. Give him a sliver of a chance and he's away like a battle tank with a booster rocket for an engine.

In a second half when Everton were overwhelmed and Richard Wright was another hero with a string of excellent saves, Rooney appeared to be the Blues' lone outlet.

Even the most aimless up-and-unders were snaffled up by this extraordinary 17-year-old and converted, with a burst of speed, or an imperious shrug of his muscular frame, into a penalty-area threat.

Those us of who marvelled when the young Alan Shearer thrust his way to the forefront of English centre-forwards have another phenomenal throwback to eulogise. Sadly, the cranky Graeme Sou-ness couldn't quite bring himself to worship at the shrine, preferring to condemn leaden defenders for allowing Rooney the space to manoeuvre.

Possibly he had his thoughts on other things having watched his classy side overwhelm Everton for the majority of the game, only to end up with just an Andy Cole goal - his 150th in the Premiership - to show for their domination.

On presentable chances alone, the final scoreline might have been 9-6 to Blackburn, and, on an Arctic afternoon, that would have been worth watching. Though not for Moyes, who was so angered by his team's refusal to get close to Blackburn that he found himself rebuked by referee Graham Barber, who ran 30 yards to deliver the reprimand.

Poor Moyes. Nothing he said made the slightest difference, Everton - even when Blackburn were reduced to 10 men with the harsh ending-off of Lucas Neill - were a shambles, particularly in central midfield, and the financially-unhappy Joseph Yobo - I want more money - joined his defensive colleagues in having a nauseous 90 minutes.

Add to this general malaise some dodgy work by England hopeful Richard Wright and you usher in the sort of scenario that heart attacks are made from.

Wright undoubtedly saved Everton in a desperately one-sided second half with three saves, two of them outstanding, one of them exceptional.

But put the ball in the air and he freezes like Frosty the Snowman.

Rooney, on the other hand, wouldn't freeze if you put him into cold storage. Twice in the second half as a rampant Blackburn roared forward - seeming to create a goal chance every time they attacked - the Croxteth Kid skated past Blackburn defenders to set up sitters - both missed - for the dozing Kevin Campbell and the wasteful Lee Carsley.

This was Rooney in the Dalglish mould, making something out of nothing, which he'd done earlier in rapping an upright for Carsley to score, and then terrorising Craig Short and Martin Taylor before blasting the ball beyond a stunned Brad Friedel.

Not ready for the Premiership? Not ready for a long first-team run? You wouldn't have guessed it on a day when he was one of the few pluses for the battered, but ultimately victorious, Blues.

He must start the derby match now. He deserves to be the first name on the team-sheet. If he is, Evertonians will dare to dream he's the man to gum up a stuttering Liverpool machine. That being so, we await the haunting lyric floating up into the darkness over Stanley Park next Sunday evening... Roooneey ... Roooneey ... Roooneey.